


Worthier Pursuits

by Burntblackfeathers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, This is basically "Drink with me"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11468991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntblackfeathers/pseuds/Burntblackfeathers
Summary: The barricade is quiet but that doesn't mean it is peaceful.





	Worthier Pursuits

There was, for once, silence on the barricade. As the men began to settle in for the night, Coufeyrac on first watch, their leader took a moment to compose himself away from the rest. 

"Everybody keep the faith, for certain as the eagle flies, we are not alone; the people too must rise."  
He found himself within the Corinth, more from habit than anything else, the ghosts of students and young people who had filled it hours before just as striking in their absence. All but one. 

Grantaire, who had retreated to a small table with his gin early on in the fight, grinned as he entered, his eyes already a little unfocused.

"The fearless leader. Drink with me."

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair before sitting down, taking the offered bottle. "To days gone by."

Grantaire let out a dry laugh, but there was little humour in it. "Not to France? Or to the revolution?"

Enjolras only shrugged, seemingly shedding himself of the outside war and any responsibility that would befall him. "I give everything else to the future, let me drink to the past."

The other seemed to sober a little, despite his draining a second bottle of gin. "Enjolras, can it be you fear to die?"

The blond said nothing at first, which posed as an answer in itself, before turning away and speaking softly but firmly. "Grantaire, that's enough."

Grantaire, for his part, sat forward; an intensity present that had been previously dulled by the drink. "Will the world even remember you when you fall in this battle? Can it be that your death means nothing at all? Is your life just one more lie?" His voice, whilst had previously been growing louder in his unexpected passion, suddenly broke and grew soft. "After all of this, will you be reduced to a warning, an example of the futility of trying to improve anything in this godforsaken world?"

"Grantaire!"

"You cannot win this, Enjolras. You will die. You will die and the world will no longer know you and you... you could have done so much more."

Enjolras stood, fists clenched in an effort to quell the mix of emotions that sat under his skin. He decided on anger, righteous and simple, "Now you speak bold words, Grantaire, but never before have I seen you care for a single thing. Who are you to lecture me on the value of life when you waste your own on worthless pursuits? Am I to be taught moral superiority by the man who believes in nothing?!"

The man pushed himself to his feet, a new fire to his eyes, fist clenched in a bizarre mirror of his opposite. "That is not true."

Enjolras laughed, "Then tell me, what does the great Grantaire believe in?"

Grantaire snarled, "You."

There was a pause, in which both men felt a shift between them. Enjolras for the first time, lowered his eyes first.

"You, Enjolras. I believe in you. Everything I have done with my 'worthless life' as you so eloquently put it, has been for you."

"Grantaire..."

"And now you want to stride out there and die for your cause and I will be forced to... Apollo I- 

"Don't call me that, I'm not a god." 

"How could you be anything but? And I the mortal never to touch you." With this Grantaire extended his hand to cup the other's face, only to drop it to a shoulder before contact. He stood back, and visibly curled into himself. Any of the fire that was previously in Grantaire fizzled out to a dull, and somewhat sad figure now sitting at the same table as before. 

To anyone arriving only now, there would be no hint as to what had transpired here, the only thing out of place was Enjolras' silence. The man was taken aback, both at Grantaire's words and at the unlikely passion that accompanied them.

"Grantaire, I wish that circumstances were different. I wish that I could... But I can't choose you over-"

"Over the revolution."

"Over the lives of everyone out there, over the lives of everyone in our country that cannot fight for themselves.

"Our little lives don't count at all, I remember." His voice was flat, dejected, and so unlike what Enjolras now knew to be Grantaire.

Enjolras moved to approach him only to be interrupted by a voice calling from without, "Enjolras! There is a man approaching the barricade!"

He hesitated, one hand still outstretched to close the gap between the two. Grantaire raised his eyebrow, "Time to shine, Apollo."

Another shout from outside and Enjolras returned once more as revolutionary leader to the front lines, fighting with a newfound fire.

Later, as he faced the guns of the national guard, his face set in defiance, he watched in an awe that matched that of the soldiers as he was faced with another version of undeniable belief. 

"I am with him!" The drunkard, more than that now, stumbled over to Enjolras. "Finish both of us at one blow." He turned to the leader, murmured softly, "I would spend the rest of my worthless life with worthier pursuits," he offered his hand, "do you permit it?"

Enjolras clasped his hand with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> So this marks my third published work on this site, and the beginning of my descent into the madness that is Les Mis, fanfic style.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr at burntblackfeathers.tumblr.com for more pain.


End file.
